Goodbyes and Second Chances (The Bleu Series Book 1) (17 page)

“Sexy,” I say to
myself. The man oozes it.

He turns his
head to the side and asks, “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” I say
too quickly, causing him to chuckle. He knew what I said and I’m not repeating
it.

He turns a key
and the beast comes to life in a loud vivacious roar. I can feel it vibrating
all through my body. I’ve never been on the back of a bike, or the front either
for that matter. I’m nervous all of a sudden and place a death grip around
Dillon’s waist.

He pats my arms.
“Relax, Jewels. I got you.” With that, he peels out of the trailer park, and it
feels like we are flying. I’m too scared to open my eyes, so I keep them
pinched shut for quite a while. It seems we have hit a long patch of highway,
so I peek and see trees flashing by in a blur. I grab hold of him tighter and
close my eyes back.

“Relax,” he says
again over his shoulder.

“Slow down and
keep your eyes on the road and maybe I can.”

“You’re no fun.”
I hear the laughter in his voice, but I feel the bike decelerating some, so I
try to loosen my death grip on him a bit.

“Open your eyes,
Jewels,” he says to me as he pats my arm again. I obey and find that we are
crossing a long bridge overlooking a wide river.

“Where are we
going?” I ask.

“On an
adventure.”

I try to rein in
my curiosity and just enjoy the moment. It’s something I’m just starting to
fully understand as I’ve gotten a little older. It seems in life we are too
worried about what’s next and we lose the gift of the present. I take in the
sights and let the future wait a while longer.

Dillon’s words
about an adventure reminds me of a time long ago when were just young’uns. It
was late one night, when an eleven-year-old Dillon pushed into my room and
demanded I go on an adventure with him. I, like the follower I have always
been, agreed.

“It’s time we
set out on our own, Jewels,” he had whispered with a backpack and his guitar
slung on his back, looking all so serious.

I grabbed a bag
and threw who-knows-what in it and followed him right out the door without
asking one question. I didn’t notice until we were outside under a nightlight
that his eyes were swollen and still damp from crying.

“You okay?” I
whispered.

He had shrugged
his shoulder before grabbing my hand to guide us on our way. As we walked down
the lakeshore, he glanced back towards his trailer. “I’m just no good for her.
Cora doesn’t need me. All I do is screw up. It’s time I leave her,” Dillon said
bravely as he swiped another stray tear from his cheek.

“What happened?”
I asked as I held tighter to his hand.

“I happened,” he
said, and I knew he would not be telling me the exact details.

So I tried to be
the best friend I was and stay by his side, even though I knew we would pay for
the stunt later. I would have walked on fire for that boy and face the
consequences bravely. More than likely, he had probably not done something on
Cora’s ever-present to-do list she left him daily. And she had probably blown
up at him and said hurtful words she really didn’t mean, but we all know that
once a word is spoken, or yelled for that matter, you cannot take it back. Cora
and Dillon’s life was not the one she had envisioned, and I think she hated
herself most of the time for that.

We had walked
along the lakeshore for what felt like hours, with Dillon telling me all about
our adventure that we would never complete. He was so hopeful, and eventually
his sadness had slipped away as we explored the underdeveloped shoreline of the
lake in the dark and later the dawn of a new day. He promised he would become a
rock star and take care of me. I had completely trusted him in my naïve mind.
We had walked hand in hand until I couldn’t walk any farther, so Dillon pulled
a sleeping bag out of his backpack, placed it on the sandy shore, and we curled
up inside of it to sleep. Lying innocently with that boy felt like home, and I
knew after that night I would always be homesick without him. I loved him all
my life even though I didn’t fall in love with him until several years past
that night.

We woke
midmorning with Aunt Evie standing over us. “Get home now, Dillon,” she said
sternly, and he obeyed immediately, without uttering one word in argument.

He spoke quickly
over his shoulder as he took off down the shore. “Sorry, Jewels.”

I looked at him,
confused as to how abruptly our adventure had ended and him doing nothing to
continue it. I had reluctantly looked back to Aunt Evie to wait apprehensively
for what was to come.

Her face looked
more sorrowful than mad, and I didn’t understand it at the time. “Jillian, you
know you cannot do this again.”

“But Dillon
needed me,” I said, with my own tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Honey, running
away won’t ever fix a problem. It will only add to it. Just be glad I found you
before Cora did.”

“I hate her,” I
said without thought.

“That’s a strong
word, young lady. I don’t like you using it. That woman is doing the best she
can. She may have a temper and her mouth gets the best of her, but you need to
remember, she loves that boy with all of her being. Even though she may not
know how to express it properly sometimes,” Aunt Evie said as she began making
her way back down the shore with me following.

“He needs me,” I
said. I didn’t want to focus on Cora. I only cared for Dillon’s well-being.
“Please, Aunt Evie. Please don’t let Cora hurt him for running away.”

“She won’t. She
feels bad for last night. She’ll be relieved he is okay.” She had tried to
soothe me because I was pretty upset. “Let’s just keep it to ourselves that you
were with him.”

“Why does she
hate
me
?” I asked through tears. I
was young still, and adult actions were so confusing. Why did it matter that I
was with him?

“She doesn’t
hate you, Jillian. I just think she wish she loved that boy as easily as you
do.” I had thought then that she didn’t answer my question, but I let that go.

“Dillon Bleu is
the easiest to love, Aunt Evie. And you know it,” I said firmly, crossing my
arms as we tracked alongside the lake, nearing the trailer park.

“I completely
agree,” she said as we snuck the long way back to our trailer so Cora wouldn’t
catch sight of us. I was surprised that Dillon and I hadn’t made it too far
from home. It had felt like our adventure took us a million miles away from
reality. Cora never caught that I was with Dillon, but he was still out of
sight for a week after that stunt. I missed him terribly. I had no idea how
awful it could feel to miss him in long stretches of years passing as I’ve had
to do in my young adult years. It’s been crippling at times.

The memory fades
and all I can think of is how true my words were way back then. I ease up from
cradling against his back and place a kiss on the side of his neck. He squeezes
my hand in approval before placing it back on the handlebar of the bike. Dillon
Bleu is absolutely the easiest to love.

We are making it
down the interstate at a pretty fast rate, and then Dillon veers off onto a
country road. We pass farmland and come upon a peach orchard. He pulls the bike
through the open gate and slows to a crawl as we pass between the rows of pink
blossomed trees. The aroma is heavenly, and I’m just in awe at the beauty of
this place.

Dillon stops
completely and kills the engine in what feels like the very middle of the orchard,
for we are surrounded by the floral landscape. He climbs off and turns around
to me. He pulls the helmet off my head. He runs his fingers through my tangled
hair and murmurs, “Sexy,” before picking me up and slowly kissing me. It’s an
unrushed yet short kiss, and I’m surprised he ended it so fast. He steadies me
on my feet and places my hand in his. “Let’s take a walk,” he says. So I
silently follow by his side.

We walk amongst
the sweet rows, leisurely. The trees are in full bloom, and I wish I had a
camera. I live in Georgia and have never visited one of these luscious orchards
until now. This place is heavenly and tranquil, and I wonder if it’s anything
close to the Garden of Eden. I can’t get over how something so magnificent has
been tucked so close and hidden right under my nose.

Dillon bends
down during our stroll and picks up a delicate pink blossom that has drifted to
the ground. He tucks it behind my ear and gazes at me as though he is taking a
mental picture. I nearly feel the current pricking the air between us. It’s
magical. He gathers my hand and kisses my knuckles as we continue our stroll.

I eventually
break the silence with a question I’m not sure I want answered.

“How long are
you here for?”

He glances at me
before easing his gaze back to the trees. “Getting Mave healthy again is our
main priority right now. So we are going on hiatus for as long as that takes.
I’m guessing several months, at least.”

“Where is he?”

“A facility in
Atlanta. He’s close.”

I shoot him a
questioning look over his vague answer.

“Only me and Max
knows exactly where he’s at. He’s embarrassed and doesn’t want anyone to know.
You are the only other person who knows he’s in rehab.” He stops us. “Jillian,
it’s important that no one else knows about this.”

“I get it,” I
say with some annoyance. But then I let it go. I keep forgetting how different
our lives are now. I don’t have to worry about the entire world knowing my
business and then smearing it in a heartless way through tabloids. “I get it,”
I say again, but more softly this time.

“Max has rented
a condo near him, so Mave’s not alone,” he says, and I think he is trying to
reassure himself and not me. We stand in silence for a few beats as I watch the
stress drain away from his features and replaced with contentment as he
refocuses on me. “Dance with me, pretty girl.” He pulls me to him before I give
him a reply.

We are already
swaying under the sweetly perfumed trees, when I say, “We don’t have any music.”

He chuckles
softly and places my hand over his heart. “We always have music with us. Right
here,” he murmurs as he gently taps my hand. He pulls me even closer. My head
is resting over his heart now, listening to the internal music of him. It’s a
song I could get lost in. I melt completely when he begins to hum in a melody
that matches it. As he hums, Dillon works his fingertips along the curve of my
neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. Every so often the humming
ceases with him placing whispers of kisses along my chin and the corners of my
mouth. I love how the humming vibrates deeply in his chest and connects with
mine. He is so vibrant and alive, and in my arms where he belongs. This man
feels like my home. It feels so right for us to finally be back together.

Time
passes—minutes, hours, or maybe a lifetime as this man leads me in this private
dance. I just want to spend the rest of my life right here in this orchard and
never return to the messy reality that needs addressing. But I decide I won’t
ruin this day. This moment. I will let it take care of itself in another
undetermined moment we can live in soon enough. I promise myself that tomorrow,
I will do it tomorrow, but then I think better of it and promise the day after
tomorrow.

We dance in this
lovely orchard until the day begins winding down, with neither one of us
wanting it to end. Dillon eventually pulls me back over to his bike and settles
us back on top before heading out of the orchard and back onto the road.

He rolls us up
to an Italian bistro. The garlic and basil aroma wafting through the air sets
my mouth to watering. After a star struck hostess receives Dillon’s autograph,
she places us in a private section near the back. Dillon is so slick, too. He
promised the staff they could take as many photos with him as they wanted, as
long as they allowed us to eat in peace first. He’s definitely a pro at this,
treating all of them as his dearest friends and them eating it up.

Luckily, the
manager is a man and he has taken on the task of personally waiting on us. I
was worried we would be stuck with some girl drooling over Dillon the whole
time, and I just don’t think I’m ready to deal with such. The chef requested
that we allow him to serve up a special dinner, and so we are sitting here
enjoying an antipasto platter while we await our main entrees. I pop an olive
in my mouth and eye my company. This man blows my mind. It’s hard to reconcile
the boy I knew with the celebrity rock star before me now. He’s shoveling in a
chunk of fresh mozzarella and tomato in his mouth, and he doesn’t seem to be
any different than the Dimples I know. But he is…

“What’s on your
mind, pretty girl?” He lifts an eyebrow.

“I’m worried I
don’t know you anymore,” I say.

The manager
scoots back in with two monstrous plates of pasta, placing them in front of us.
They are overflowing with linguine dressed in red sauce and loaded down with
huge shrimp and slivers of garlic.

“Thanks, man.
This looks amazing,” Dillon says before taking a generous bite. I follow suit.
It is so delicious. The manager seems pleased and leaves us be. “You know me.
I’m still me.” He does his best to reassure me before taking another bite.